


Safe Harbor

by ushauz



Series: Safe Harbor [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Identity Issues, Implied Past Non-Con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:04:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ushauz/pseuds/ushauz
Summary: “You know your mother only supported the idea because she had the crazy notion there would be less violence involved,” Anders said. A smile tugged at his lips. “You just can’t help yourself when it comes to a lost cause, can you?”Hawke laughed nervously. “I guess you could say that.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Glow Bang 2016. My artist made a fanmix which can be found here: http://8tracks.com/geekling713/refuge-an-anders-playlist

In Kirkwall, he settled in a makeshift clinic that reeked of various bodily fluids. He was not sure which him he was, but he was he. It was safer in Darktown, ironically. He couldn’t see the Gallows from there. Circles have always been bad, but Anders managed. But he? He could not manage, and he remembered, and he saw, and Anders never knew how to deal with it if he remembered all the time, and Justice didn't know how to ignore.  
  
So. They settled in Darktown with no view of the Gallows. Not yet. Not until he can tell which him he was. All the same, they reached out to the local Mages’ Collective because idleness was unproductive. He simultaneously remembered being energy and moods of seemingly endless energy. It was confusing to think about, so he chose not to.  
  
He knew he would have to sort this all out later, but anger and betrayal was still fresh in his mind, and the sensory world seemed so much more overwhelming than before they joined.  
  
Flickers of a third Joining flitted through his mind. He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, focusing on breathing and centering himself in his own body. That was made clear at the beginning. Anders insisted they share the body, but Justice felt it would be encroaching too much already, and now it all made his head spin.  
  
Two sets of memories and another partial one, and yet he felt lonelier than before they joined.  
  
—  
  
He considered journaling, writing to the other, but he would first have to figure out which one was the other. Also paper was expensive. He could sell some of the few personal belongings he managed to keep, but the idea was abhorrent to him.  
  
He tried a game of touching each of their belongings, trying to see if he felt a difference in the emotional intensity, but it didn’t work. Any response that he didn’t have, the other did.  
  
He tried meditation at one point, but that proved to be a failure, as there was never enough time to meditate. There was always injuries to be treated. Someone would burn themself or break an arm or have a persistent cough that they would be ashamed about bringing to their attention but they had just barely scraped onto a job and couldn’t risk losing it. Pox, dysentery, broken ribs, mysterious rashes, partially crushed skull.  
  
It was not too long after that one that the Templars caught wind. He did not run, but he quietly moved to another location.  
  
He wasn't sure he even could run at this point if he tried.  
  
Theoretically, that would be a perfect way to try to figure himself out, thinking about conflicting issues, but the other him’s thoughts registered in his mind at the same time. Running was both a weakness and a natural way of survival.  
  
It caused pain to splinter into his head to think about too long, so he decided to think about more harmonic topics, like the cause of mages.  
  
They had decided to start small, but they came to the mutual agreement that perhaps the first real step they should take would be to free Karl. It was a just act, it furthered their cause, and it would finally reunite Anders with Karl. The years had dimmed the burning need to see him immediately, which he was ashamed of.  
  
Then again, it had been a number of years, and Anders wasn’t just himself anymore. Would Karl love them as they were?  
  
…would he also love Justice?  
  
Romance had been something Justice had yearned for since Kristoff and Aura, of their vows and trials and fervent letters. He yearned with such an intensity that he had been frightened by it.  
  
But Brosca had said it was possible for him. Or for Justice. He remembered the conversation, and he remembered overhearing bits of the conversation from where he had been.  
  
He groaned. Was everything from his/their Warden days going to be painful to think about?  
  
—  
  
There was a scruffy warrior in battered armor who came to their clinic with the fool’s mission of going to the Deep Roads in search of treasure. Anders had already seen four broodmothers too many, and the act of plundering did not interest Justice.  
  
But the letters they had been receiving from Karl had taken an odd turn. Something was wrong, and he did not doubt for a second that the meeting would be a trap.  
  
He offered his maps in exchange for the warrior’s aid. The warrior agreed readily, and there was no deceit in his mind. He could tell, and it was just yet another thing both new and familiar.  
  
The warrior offered his hand with a smile. “I’m Hawke,” he said pleasantly. “I’m happy to help.”  
  
—  
  
He saw the brand on Karl, on a Harrowed mage unjustly made Tranquil, saw the brand on _Karl_ and choked and finally split.  
  
As Justice rose to the forefront, there was the hysterical thought that at least he knew which one he was now.  
  
—  
  
Hawke-  
  
Hawke did not judge him. He seemed genuinely remorseful over Karl, offered to give him time.  
  
He- _Anders_ gave him the maps, and then because it had gone so wrong, he offered his aid on the expedition, if Hawke even wanted it.  
  
Anders then spent the next four days straight tending to the refugees. The stream only let up when he would turn the lantern off, after all, and sometimes not even then. The lantern remained on. There was always someone to heal.  
  
He might have lasted longer, but Lirene caught word and came down herself, ushering everyone out. She didn’t judge him. Instead she offered a strong sleeping draught, but not before he ate first. He took both methodically, but oblivion did not heal him.  
  
—  
  
A week later, Hawke surprisingly came by again.  
  
“You’re a healer, right?” Hawke asked.  
  
Anders raised an eyebrow.  
  
Hawke grimaced. “Look, I know you promised your aid with the expedition, and I don’t want to ask too much of you-”  
  
Anders made a sweeping wave to his clinic. No one else had that problem.  
  
“Exactly. You are a very busy man, and-”  
  
“What do you want?” Anders asked, feeling slightly amused.  
  
Hawke sighed. “You know that boarded up area right outside your clinic? It’s my future basement, and it’s full of slavers. We cleared it out, but Bethany accidentally impaled herself on something rusty. Neither of us are familiar with much of healing, but we know that rust is really bad, and I don’t want her to lose an arm.”  
  
Bethany would be the girl behind Hawke then. She smiled and waved with her bandaged arm.  
  
Anders laughed. “I heal everyone.”  
  
Bethany laughed nervously. “Yes, but my brother was also hoping you could show me how you do it? I never learned. Not healing magic.”  
  
Hawke’s sister was an apostate?  
  
Hawke’s sister was an apostate who had remained with her family. Hawke’s sister was never dragged away, and the family had protected her after all of these years.  
  
“Of course,” Anders said. “Sit down; I’ll walk you through it.”  
  
—  
  
Bethany started to show up regularly.  
  
“After father died, I never had another mage to talk to,” she confessed once. “It’s nice to just talk magic sometimes with someone who understands.”  
  
Hawke also started to show up regularly. Once Hawke realized that no, Anders really didn’t mind, and Anders wasn’t just being nice when he said he could use the fresh air—he did live in a sewer after all and even despite the open areas the smell really did build up—Anders found himself on a number of missions with a motley crew strange enough that Anders almost felt comfortable. Almost.  
  
The problem was they talked to Anders, asked how Anders was. Aside from Hawke and Bethany, they were never interested in Justice at best.  
  
At the worst, he- Justice was called a demon. He wasn’t; Nathaniel and Brosca had assured him that possessing a willing host would not make him a demon. Nathaniel had even been the first to offer, even before Kristoff’s body had started to break down. Sigrun and Brosca had offered as well, and though Velanna and Oghren didn’t, they also didn’t condemn him. Velanna even remarked that a living person would be far preferable to another corpse.  
  
Velanna also had told him in private that she would prefer it if he picked Anders or Sigrun as she believed it would make the relations she had with Nathaniel awkward. She had said it dismissively, but inside she had felt it would be wrong to continue in that case as it would make Justice an unwilling participant during their time together.  
  
None of them had ever considered Justice a demon. He wished things had not changed. He missed them, all of them including Anders, which made no sense because he was Anders.  
  
The feeling was mutual, however. Sometimes Anders tried to think very injustice-y thoughts to try to have Justice rise to the surface: templars, slavers, people kicking kittens. He wanted to hear his voice again, but usually Anders just ended up talking a lot out loud.  
  
Strangely enough, it still seemed to help.  
  
—  
  
Hawke sat on an empty crate—built with underpaid hands, used to sell food at exorbitant prices to starving refugees—and Anders slowly healed his arm for the fourth time.  
  
“You don’t seem to have a talent for avoiding trouble,” Anders said. Anders should mind. That would be the right thing to do, but it kept bringing Hawke back to him, distracting him and dragging him out of his mind.  
  
Hawke laughed, a bright thing that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Pot calling kettle black.”  
  
“I shouldn’t complain,” Anders said. “Honestly. And I should thank you for sticking your neck out for those mages. Hopefully they should be long gone by now.“  
  
“No need to thank me,” Hawke said. Unfortunately, it was a blatant lie.  
  
—  
  
There was another apostate among Hawke’s friends, and that was Merrill. Justice was, to put it lightly, not a fan, and Anders found himself agreeing. Demons. Perhaps if she had just learned the magic on her own somehow, but no, it was always demons. Willingly consorting with them for power, proving the Chantry correct that all mages are wrong and will eventually succumb without their oversight and protection.  
  
Hawke tried to tell him that Merrill was kind and also knew what she was doing and that perhaps forcing Andrastian teachings on her was unfair and dismissive of the Dalish as a whole.  
  
Merrill consorted with demons. There was no reason to be had.  
  
—  
  
It was a long walk back from the Wounded Coast.  
  
“Is anyone paying you for this?” Fenris asked.  
  
Hawke shrugged. “Probably. But it had to be done anyways. The Tal-Vashoth were attacking caravans. That had to be stopped, both for the caravans and for the more peaceful Tal-Vashoth who might not want to get associated with banditry.”  
  
“Hawke,” Fenris said. “You will never get your expedition funded.”  
  
Bethany snickered.  
  
“What?” Hawke asked, looking over at Bethany.  
  
“It’s just weird,” Bethany laughed. “Everyone keeps calling you that. Hawke.”  
  
Anders stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Isn't that his name?”  
  
“Oh sure, it’s his name,” Bethany said. “And it’s my name and my mother’s name.”  
  
Merrill tilted her head. “But everyone calls you that. Why does everyone call you that?”  
  
Hawke jerked a thumb back at Varric who grinned broadly. “Guilty.”  
  
“His first name is Martin,” Bethany said.  
  
“That just seems weird for some reason,” Merrill said. “I mean I could change if you want though. Change what I call you. I can’t literally change, at least not yet. I suppose I could learn, but there is so much else I have to do first.”  
  
“Oh come on. Hawke is such a strong name, perfect for any protagonist,” Varric said.  
  
Hawke narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know I get worried when you say things like that.”  
  
Varric cackled.  
  
Hawke sighed. “Look, just ‘Hawke’ is fine. Varric’s already got half of Kirkwall calling me by my last name anyway, and it seems like too much effort to change it at this point.”  
  
“Haven’t you lived here for over a year now?” Anders asked. “And I thought you only knew Varric for a few months at best.”  
  
Varric grinned. “What can I say? I’ve got talent.”  
  
—  
  
On a whim, he decided to go up to Hawke’s. He had been there before, and Hawke was always visiting him. It seemed right he should return the favor. Besides, he needed to give Hawke the latest batch of potions. Hawke didn’t always take him on his outings, and frankly the number of injuries Hawke received on his jobs was alarming. Then again, Hawke had a habit of biting off more than he could chew.  
  
After several off-passages and two dubious lifts, he finally hit sunlight, and he sighed.  
  
He loved sunlight, actual sunlight that warmed your skin and hurt your eyes to stare at. All of the windows had been too high up in the Circle. He tried to pick his current clinic’s spot where he would get that, but the overhang obscured the view. While it was still fresh air, important for patients, he missed direct sunlight.  
  
He clutched his small box and walked down the narrow streets before they opened up into a large area. Stalls were in every unused corner, and people pushed past each other in a throng.  
  
He frowned, uneasy. He loved this, seeing new faces, people he had never met and would likely never meet again. It tasted like freedom. Or it should.  
  
…there were just so many, far too many to keep track of, so many quick movements and partial noises he couldn’t comprehend. He tried to push down the feeling and walk forward, but distress clutched at his lungs. Was it Justice? He had never seemed to be bothered by such things before, but then perhaps being in a corpse was different than a living being.  
  
Anders winced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know another way there.”  
  
The distress remained, sharp and fluttering. It was nonsensical, but it wouldn’t leave. Anders felt frustration build, but he had the nagging suspicion that also belonged to Justice.  
  
“Well. Time to get really lost then,” Anders said.  
  
On the bright side, he did eventually find another route to Hawke’s. After several hours. He felt like Merrill.  
  
—  
  
Anders had talked too often about his hatred for the Deep Roads, all of a total of two whole times, but apparently Hawke had a memory for such things. Hawke ended up taking Bethany and Fenris with him.  
  
Bethany did not come back. The Blight, of course.  
  
Leandra had yelled at first. Then she had cried, and then later she didn’t want Hawke out of her sight. None of them ended up seeing a lot of Hawke for a few months, and afterward Hawke was far more subdued.  
  
Anders honestly didn’t expect to see much of Hawke again. Anders was a Warden, and if he had been there, it was quite possible for him to have prevented it. It just made sense.  
  
So Bethany stopped coming by his clinic to pester him with questions like how to set bones with magic or how bad really was the Circle because her father didn’t like talking about it or what did spirits think about people they found dreaming. But it didn’t seem right to grieve her when he had only barely known her, not in comparison to Hawke and Leandra.  
  
Less time with Hawke only meant more time for his clinic. He tried not to think to hard about the alcoholic who kept coming in who tried but just couldn’t quit, or this one female dwarf who was obviously Carta but smiled cheerfully when she showed him her infected arm, or that he wasn’t seeing nearly as many workers from the Bone Pit after someone had put better regulations in place.  
  
Any time between a week or a month later (it was so easy to lose track of time once you got started), Varric showed up at his door.  
  
Anders waved for him to sit down. If it was urgent, Varric would let him know, and Anders was currently hands deep in someone’s intestines. Spirit healing with a live-in spirit could work miracles, but it couldn’t remove foreign bits of matter from the guts. That required a more hands-on approach and then spirit healing.  
  
After Anders finished up and washed his hands, he went over to greet Varric.  
  
“Do you need something?” Anders asked. “I presume if someone was injured that you would have brought them along.”  
  
Varric had an odd look about him that Anders couldn’t quite place. “Nah,” Varric said. “I was just coming to check up on you. Also, let you know to keep your schedule free for Thursday night.”  
  
“For?”  
  
“Blondie!” Varric gasped. “Don’t tell me you have forgotten about Wicked Grace Night!”  
  
“We’ve never had a ‘Wicked Grace Night,’ Varric,” Anders said.  
  
“That doesn’t excuse you forgetting about it."  
  
“Is this your idea or Hawke’s?” Anders asked.  
  
“We came up with it together. See, we’ve all got very busy personal lives, some of us busier than others, but Hawke thought it would be nice to just have everyone get together once a week. Or have people make a good attempt to come once a week. He’s not that picky, but I do think he’s getting bored.”  
  
“So Wicked Grace?”  
  
“Hey. Wicked Grace Night is a time-honored tradition as of tomorrow, and it’s the only thing we could think of that we all do aside from killing people which Hawke’s mother has requested he cut back on.”  
  
Right. Bethany.  
  
Varric patted him on the arm. “All you have to do is show up and play cards. Come on. It’ll be good for you.”  
  
—  
  
Everyone did show up, whether out of solidarity or boredom. Hawke was already there, and when Hawke saw Anders, his entire face lit up.  
  
Hawke had probably been feeling lonely, and in hindsight, Anders should have tried to talk to him more, not avoid him.  
  
The night went by with minimal bickering. Somehow, Anders found himself with food he never ordered, and he had the sinking suspicion that it was due to Varric.  
  
Anders kept an eye on Hawke, and it did seem to be doing him good. Of course, Anders wouldn’t know if this was an improvement since he hadn’t been in much contact. He squashed down his guilt and focused on his cards. He could have sworn he used to be better at this. He remembered being better at this.  
  
“It’s your poker face,” Isabela stage-whispered across the table.  
  
Dammit Justice.  
  
—  
  
Sometime after they merged, they had decided to try and find out what drinking was. They remembered it, the floaty warmth and free emotions, the hacking burn in the throat, and they wanted to experience it again but personally.  
  
It didn’t work out. It just never happened. They never got drunk. They tried it a few more times, but the most he got was a slight tingle in his nose that faded after a few minutes. Anders’ best guess was that since alcohol was basically a weak poison, their natural regeneration just filtered it out before it could even set in.  
  
Considering Anders had survived a sword through the chest, it wasn’t the craziest theory.  
  
The long point of this was that towards the end, he was one of only two sober people, joined by Aveline.  
  
Isabela loudly protested moving from the room despite the fact that her room was just down the hall, insisting that the rug was her new bestest friend and insisted on sleeping right there. Merrill had somehow claimed Varric’s bed from him, and Hawke didn’t want to walk all that way to his house.  
  
Fenris was, while tipsy, not fully drunk, and decided that the bed back at the abandoned mansion would be far more comfortable than Varric’s floor. Nobody wanted the bed. Anders had learned from some of the missions beyond Kirkwall that Merrill tended to kick viciously in her sleep and always stole the covers. Even if it wasn’t her bedroll, she would somehow steal his covers from across the tent. He knew it wasn’t a personal thing because both Fenris and Aveline complained about it too.  
  
He still found that preferable over Varric’s sleep-talking, random snatches of phrases that almost made sense, except when then followed by the next thing Varric would say.  
  
Fenris at least slept like the dead.  
  
Aveline offered to walk Fenris back, who refused with a single grunt and then promptly disappeared into the night.  
  
Aveline and Anders stood awkwardly for a moment, mutually not speaking to each other, before walking off in opposite directions.  
  
—  
  
Time afterward quickly dissolved into a whirlwind of activity. Like-minded people were starting to actively smuggle mages out from the Gallows or shelter them for a short time before finding safer places outside of Kirkwall. The problem was also that lifelong Circle mages usually lacked skills necessary outside of the Circle, like cooking or how currency worked, which usually resulted in a fast end to one’s apostate career. Even day-to-day life was so drastically different that most escapees suffered from culture shock, making them far easier to detect for Templars.  
  
Aside from those in the planning and execution of escapes, there were were also those who were willing to hide escapees in their homes for a while or teach them necessary life skills before trying to find safe havens in other cities or villages or the travelers willing to take mages on.  
  
Anders knew the Templars would fight back, but it was unsettling to see ‘Knight-Captain’ Cullen in charge of the investigation against the Underground. He vaguely recalled a stuttering recruit from Kinloch Hold, but Cullen now held little resemblance. That was usually how it went with the new Templars. Some of them might start with being uneasy, but they quickly grew into their roles.  
  
But that was not the reason Anders didn’t like to see Cullen. No, Cullen was also from Kinloch Hold and was there when Uldred transformed the tower into a killing ground. Anders hadn’t been there, but Warden-Commander Brosca told him about it, as gently as possible. As much as Anders hated it there, he still had friends who lived there, or had. There weren’t many survivors, and Anders had been too much of a coward to ask after them. If he didn’t know that they died, then he could pretend they were still alive or maybe escaped during the destruction.  
  
Likely they didn’t, though. Anders never knew, but Brosca had talked to Justice about it, how they sealed the door and left the children trapped on the other side, that their plan was for everything to murder each other and to then send the remaining Templars in.  
  
According to his sources in the Collective, Cullen was one of the lucky surviving few who had been inside the Tower itself. Cullen survived, but not his friends. Cullen was obviously ‘emotionally impaired’ by what happened, but that was fine because he was a Templar, he could get reassigned and granted a shiny new promotion. A few of the surviving mages who were ‘emotionally impaired’ were dubbed risks and appropriately dealt with via Tranquility.  
  
Grand Cleric Elthina was not interested in the various double-standards of the Circle, only interested in how ‘someone like him’ got his hands on the documents. She would, of course, be praying for him.  
  
Hawke tried to tell him that maybe talking to the Grand Cleric wasn’t the best idea for laying low. Anders told him that since Cullen already knew his face, he was fucked anyway and had officially stopped giving a shit.  
  
When not healing anything that walked through the clinic’s door, he tried to write down why the Circle didn’t work, or why being afraid of mages was stupid when there were things like the Children crawling around deep underneath people’s feet, or ultimately why mages were still people and deserved to be treated as such.  
  
Anders tended to let Justice write as he had such a better way with words and a stubborn single-mindedness to actually complete the task at hand. It wasn’t a full split, like what happened with Karl, but more of a lapse where he just drifted and watched what Justice did or slept.  
  
These were things they decided to not tell the others about, these and other things like them.  
  
—  
  
At some point in the past few years, Hawke had started to flirt with Anders. Casually at first and then later with less and less subtlety.  
  
It wasn’t that he didn’t return his feelings. He did. But Anders knew he was clingy and tended to throw himself at whatever threw affection his way. It didn’t help that he had also always been a romantic, ever since he learned it was possible for someone like him to love someone else.  
  
Ever since Karl spoke to him for the first time over improper use of margins in books.  
  
And also ever since Kristoff and Aura in the Keep.  
  
Therein lay the problem because Hawke flirted with _Anders_.  
  
The only choice left was for it to be a distraction, nothing more, and Anders felt hard-pressed to argue with Justice on this.  
  
“Mother’s planning on making some sort of traditional family meal,” Hawke said. “She doesn’t cook often, but when she does she always makes too much.”  
  
“Does she now?” Anders asked idly.  
  
He could almost see the frustration in Hawke’s mind. “You could come over,” Hawke suggested casually. “Maybe help eat a lot of food?”  
  
Focus. “I’m sorry,” Anders said. “I have some tasks to take care of.”  
  
It wasn’t a lie. There was always work to be done.  
  
—  
  
Varric complained about Anders working too much. Varric said that made Varric tired just watching him and that it wouldn’t kill Anders to take a break every once in awhile.  
  
Anders disagreed. It built in his chest, made him sick. There was so much wrong, and he couldn’t fix it. It felt as if he had made no progress over the years, and it was only by memorization of each escaped mage that he kept calm.  
  
He tried to ignore that they caught some of them again anyway. That the recaptured escapees were always either executed in the Gallows or made Tranquil as a lesson to the others. He healed, and the poor came back to him again anyway, often with conditions that wouldn’t have happened if they had proper care or better working conditions. It was unjust, and he could find no way out.  
  
He felt like he was suffocating, which made no sense. He was doing the best he could; why couldn’t Justice understand that? It worsened when he was idle, clutched at his chest and caused him to shake.  
  
He accepted Varric’s offer for dinner, but he brought paper, and he tried to find the right combination of words that would make others realize the wrongs being committed.  
  
—  
  
“Hey Blondie. I know you seem busy there, but it’s gotten really late,” Varric said.  
  
“Really?” Anders asked. Was it just because of work or was he missing time again? No, no he had gotten better after all of that. He was fine now.  
  
“Hey, no problem,” Varric said. “You can stay over for the night. You might want to wash up first though.”  
  
“I smell like sewer?” Anders asked wryly.  
  
“I’ve got a private bath. Benefits of being a long-time customer.”  
  
“You live here.”  
  
“Exactly. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”  
  
Anders wondered if sewer was still a better smell than ‘actively rotting corpse’. He followed Varric to the room, feeling amused at Varric’s transparent need to take care of all of them. He had no problems with the Coterie anymore, and somehow Merrill remained unscathed every day despite once having walked right into the Invisible Sisters’ secret headquarters.  
  
Varric left him with a towel and a fresh change of human clothes that just so conveniently happened to be his size. Anders smiled. Varric was such a good friend.  
  
Anders stared out into the hallway for a moment before slowly shutting the door. It was such a small act that brought him endless enjoyment. Privacy. No Templars watching just in case anyone burst into demons while their eyes slid over the mages’ bodies. It was five years since he was last stuck in Kinloch Hold, and yet the act still gave him such satisfaction.  
  
—  
  
Hawke did not stop flirting, and the obsession grew. Hawke was simply kind and easy on the eyes. He was a noble man, easily inspiring others to greater heights, always willing to smooth over conflict, and yet at the same time harbored the strangest sense of humor.  
  
It just made sense that Anders liked to hear him laugh, enjoyed playing Wicked Grace with him as Hawke desperately tried to correct Varric’s insane stories which only prompted Varric to even crazier heights. So of course he wanted to spend more time with him, pledge his aid to Hawke’s cause because he was indeed a noble man and-  
  
He bit his lip. Stupid obsession. Work to be done. Focus. He stared at the papers on his desk for a moment before giving up.  
  
Anders sighed, banging his head backwards against the head of his chair. “But what if- what if he did want us anyway?”  
  
Pressure built inside his head, raw and conflicting emotions he could not name, except maybe-  
  
Jealousy? Envy? Dejection?  
  
“I know we really didn’t talk too much about this beforehand,” Anders said. “I know I wasn’t your first choice.”  
  
That felt wrong, grated against him, hurt. But it was true. The plan had been for Nathaniel, Velanna hesitantly agreeing in the end. Unfortunately, the new Warden-Commander had shortly after sent Nathaniel out with a group in a mission to the Deep Roads to kill a few new broodmothers that had popped up. It went long though, and Nathaniel didn’t return, not in over a month, and Rolan was closing in, and Justice’s body was falling apart, so there had to be a last minute change of plans. He still didn’t know if Nathaniel even survived.  
  
“I mean I trusted you of course. We both knew that. And it hasn’t been easy for either of us. I mean, three years and we are only just starting to really tell who's talking?” He laughed briefly because it was funny, and he’d rather it be funny than sad.  
  
Loneliness.  
  
Anders bit his lip. “Look, if something did happen, and I mean it probably won’t, but even if it did-” he paused, trying to find the right words, always trying to find just those right words. “I just want you to know that no matter how hard it’s been, I don’t regret it.  I’m- happy I got to know you and-”  
  
He looked down at his hands, crackling and sparking.  
  
“Even if I got together with someone, it wouldn’t diminish what we have any less,” he finally said.  
  
Anders felt suddenly inexplicably angry that he couldn’t say any further what he meant, angry at the Circle for beating it out of him, and angry at the people around him for scaring him into silence.  
  
“I miss you,” one of them said, but Anders didn’t know who.  
  
—  
  
Sebastian asked if anything had happened to him. He wanted a reason why a mage would be so against the Circle so he could turn a blind eye and dismiss Anders’ complaints as being an anomaly.  
  
Later in yet another new location for his clinic, Anders shook so hard he was unable to hold his pen, and he had no idea why.  
  
—  
  
In the strangest turn of events, Hawke became the ambassador to the Qunari.  
  
“It isn’t just rumors on how they treat their mages,” Anders said uneasily. “Fenris confirmed it. Apparently even he feels uncomfortable with them.”  
  
Hawke sighed. “They are still people, foreigners in a hostile city,” he said. “And to be fair, technically we treat our mages only moderately better.” Hawke avoided looking across the water to the Gallows.  
  
“It’s in everyone’s best interest for cooperation, even the Tal-Vashoth. And I can’t blame them for deserting the Qun, I mean I really can’t, but it makes others question the Arishok’s ability to keep his people at bay,” Hawke continued. “Everyone’s running scared, and if things get any worse, it could get ugly fast. If the Arishok would only trust me with what was stolen, I could try and find and return it, and then they could finally leave with their honor and our city intact and everyone would get to live happily ever after.”  
  
“You know your mother only supported the idea because she had the crazy notion there would be less violence involved,” Anders said. A smile tugged at his lips. “You just can’t help yourself when it comes to a lost cause, can you?”  
  
Hawke laughed nervously. “I guess you could say that.”  
  
—  
  
Aveline saw him as a walking time bomb. Varric and Isabela thought him boring, Fenris and Sebastian a demon, Merrill little better than a demon.  
  
“So what is the Fade like when there isn’t anyone dreaming around?” Hawke asked. Hawke still would ask him questions, express an interest in talking to him, not just Anders. Sometimes he idly wondered if that was part of the reason. He didn’t have anyone but Hawke and Anders.  
  
“It is not too dissimilar from mortal dreams,” Justice said. “Spirits and demons create areas of their own based around what they see in mortal dreams, tinted by whatever it is they aspire to.” He paused for a moment. “But everything is more green. Your sky still seems wrong to me.”  
  
Hawke titled his head. “Do you miss it?” he asked.  
  
“Yes. But I have found things of worth in this world as well.” Though sometimes Justice preferred to not reflect too heavily on what those things were.  
  
Hawke smiled. “So by any chance do you remember Feynriel? Because I happen to have a job just up your alley.”  
  
—  
  
Anders began to put off Wicked Grace night. It was a drain for some reason, some hostile level that he could never get past, no matter how comfortable Varric made him feel, and yet he couldn’t figure out why. He was welcome there.  
  
(But he wasn’t.)  
  
The drain continued regardless, and he found it increasingly difficult to get out of bed, fatigue making him heavy. Sometimes Anders found his body moving regardless, found food in his hands he knew he didn’t fetch. It brought tears to his eyes, but he ate, and then he healed, and then he slept again because without a function-  
  
Sleep distracted Justice too. It never returned him to the Fade, not fully. It was more like staring through heavy glass even for all of the lucidity a mage had. Still it was more than the mortal world, and he missed it.  
  
He also possessed a mortal form which required food and companionship. Anders also found himself attending Wicked Grace Night on a regular basis despite everything. Back at his clinic, closed down for the night, he found himself crying, hugging himself, wondering how he had managed to get through this before without a friendly presence in his head pushing him forward.  
  
(He knew why, and that it was never this bad before solitary, and the last time one of his damned moods hit he was with the Wardens and had a cat that sat on him when he got this way.)  
  
—  
  
It was normal, and he was normal, because according to the Circle, emotions were fickle things that drew in demons. Mages had to be able to regulate themselves, or unfortunately the Circle would have to take matters into their own hands.  
  
And honestly, he was fine most of the time. Some of the time. He had been better, had a better handle on it, but that wasn’t before Justice. That had been after that little room, so many days pressed into him until there was nothing, and the nothing ate him and left nothing behind, no shields or skills or self.  
  
They were just waiting for him to get possessed in there. He was not sure why they ever let him out.  
  
Anders knew the only reason he left that cell with any semblance of sanity had been because of Mister Wiggums. The cat seemed to hate Templars as much as he did, or at the very least, disliked them enough that he refused to be around when the Templars came by.  
  
—  
  
The Gallows made Kinloch Hold look like a holiday. Anders told himself that was the reason they found so many blood mages who turned to demons for power out of terror, wanting only protection, any defense against the Templars.  
  
Anders told himself that they did not prove the Chantry right. The Circle only made things worse, indoctrinated mages into believing the end goal was to be an abomination.  
  
Anders was no monster, no demon. He was a healer and a good mage. It was _willing_.  
  
—  
  
Anders fell, and Justice rose. He promised he would keep Anders safe. It was a sacred agreement he had made when Anders had promised him his own body, and it filled Justice with rage to see how far back the abuse went. Templars and broken faith and assault, of being accused of corrupting Templars as if there was anything to corrupt. He can’t find them, he took down the Templars but he can’t find them. Someone called him demon yet again, blamed _him_ for-  
  
And then there was Hawke, ordering him down with fear in his eyes. Justice can’t; it was still there, he knew it, felt the wrongs inflicted crawling under his skin, sick and twisted and-  
  
Justice halted despite everything, shaking with the effort. Hawke had been nothing but a friend, had trusted in him. He can’t- he knew there was something wrong and there was danger he can feel it- He promised Anders he would keep him safe. He had to.  
  
He let go of his fear. He let go of Anders, and then Anders’ mind caught up to him on what he was just about to do.  
  
—  
  
He ran. He always ran. He was never safe and now he himself wasn’t safe either.  
  
Should he run again? He couldn’t stay, not like this, but he was just so tired of running.  
  
He stared at his things, what little he had managed to take with him from his flight from the Wardens, and saw only uselessness.  
  
“Throwing everything away isn’t going to make you feel better,” Hawke said from behind him.  
  
Anders glared at him bitterly. “Should I feel better? You were the only thing stopping me from murdering an innocent girl! It's all gone wrong, Justice and I. We're just a monster, same as any abomination.”  
  
-as any demon, he knew it, he was a blind fool and never should have listened-  
  
-always too angry, too emotional, always dragging everyone down with him, so fucking selfish-  
  
Hawke shook his head. “You aren't,” he said as if he actually believed it. “You listened and backed down.”  
  
Anders snorted.  
  
Hawke frowned and was silent for a moment. “You listened,” he said again slowly. “We've fought Templars before, but I think something went wrong, and you got confused. I'm not-”  
  
He stepped closer, and Anders took a step back.  
  
Hawke took a shaky breath. “I'm not just talking to Anders here, okay? You got confused, but you listened to me, and you backed down. I understand this must be fucking terrifying, but you listened and didn't kill anyone. So we have discovered some kind of problem, but now we know what it is, and we can work around it. This doesn't- this doesn't make you a monster or- or a demon.”  
  
Their eyes blurred. “You’re wrong,” they said. “I wouldn’t have known. I would have killed her. I can’t do this. How can I fight for the freedom of mages when I am the example of the worst that freedom brings?”  
  
Hawke tentatively took a step closer and then closer still when they didn’t pull away that time. “I would hardly call you the worst example,” Hawke said. “How many lives have you saved here? Or in the other places that held your clinics? There have been a great deal of clinics. How many times have you saved the lives of my friends? Honestly, I think there is a certain Tevinter magister who is a far worse example than you.”  
  
Anders snorted but didn’t pull away when Hawke reached out to hold his hand.  
  
“We can work past this,” Hawke said passionately. “I'm not saying it won't be hard, but we just have to figure out what happened, and then we can make sure that doesn't happen again. Or if it does, you will at least know what's going on. Both of you. The important part is that we know now and that no one died. Aside from the Templars.”  
  
He can't contradict Hawke. Not now.  
  
Hawke smiled tentatively and before releasing Anders’ hand to fetch some folded papers from his pack. “I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but you were right," Hawke said. “About Alrik. You weren’t delusional.”  
  
—  
  
Grand Cleric Elthina was interested in the papers, but not in the way Anders wanted. Instead of perhaps seeing that the Templars had gone beyond ‘unreasonable’, she took it as proof that things were working out and that Meredith was in fact a reasonable Knight-Commander.  
  
The fact that Ser Alrik hadn’t actually waited for permission was merely unfortunate, and surely the Maker would look upon the unguilty souls.  
  
The Grand Cleric would of course be praying for him.  
  
It was a long walk back to the clinic, tramping through the clean streets of Hightown, watching the people eye him with obvious distaste. To be fair, he did live in a sewer. On the other hand, this wouldn’t be necessary if the Chantry was actually near the people who they theoretically aided.  
  
As much as he worked to aid his patients, if there was a legitimate clinic where people could receive help, he knew who they would choose in a heartbeat.  
  
Clinic. Healing. Safe things for him to do. He still believed in the cause, but no matter what Hawke said, recent events showed that they were better off without him. He couldn’t risk it.  
  
—  
  
“Are you alright?” Merrill asked later.  
  
Anders stared at her incredulously. “I nearly killed an innocent girl. How can I be alright?”  
  
She looked at him with pity. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“You’re sorry. For me? This could be you! You could be the next monster threatening helpless girls!” Because only a monster could.  
  
Merrill eyed him sadly. “Anders… there’s no such thing as a good spirit. There never was. All spirits are dangerous. I understood that. I’m sorry you didn’t.”  
  
Anders felt nothing, no stirring of disagreement, no anger at accusation. Nothing. He really had finally broken Justice.  
  
He remained silent for the rest of the mission.  
  
—  
  
A couple of weeks later, Hawke yet again showed up at his clinic.  
  
“So Orana’s really nervous about everything,” he said. “I mean I can’t blame her. Everything’s so different here, and I don’t think she entirely knows what to do with her wages?”  
  
“It’s good of you to hire her,” probably Anders said. It was hard to tell.  
  
“Well it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of it,” Hawke said. “Frankly we could use someone to clean around the house. Also cook since Mother has been distracted lately. Speaking of which, Orana has been feeling kinda homesick, so I okayed a thing, and now she’s making some kind of special Tevinter meal for supper. “  
  
…what? Hawke couldn’t be serious, not after recent events, not after proof that they had gone wrong and almost defiled their very cause and nature. Did the man learn nothing from this?  
  
“Is that a stunned silence of acceptance?” Hawke asked hesitantly.  
  
His focus wavered. He-  
  
It wasn’t as if it wasn’t mutual. It was just too mutual.  
  
But then recent events showed that he just shouldn’t get involved. And it was unfair to Anders to deny him this, not when he was so lonely. Hawke would be good to them- to him. And maybe in the background he could just… pretend…  
  
Anders blinked, feeling odd for a moment, but then there was Hawke in front of him. “You know what?” Anders said. “Sure. Let’s have dinner.”  
  
Hawke beamed.  
  
—  
  
Only three days later, Anders found out why Leandra was distracted. She was missing, and there were lilies left at the estate.  
  
Hawke was sick with desperation and had led them to Darktown to seek Gascard.  
  
“You have to find her. Please,” Hawke begged, and his voice broke over a single word.  
  
It was blood magic, and yet he could feel not a single shred of condemnation over the act. Leandra was in danger. He understood, and Fenris behind him remained quiet as well.  
  
No one would be harmed by this, only helped.  
  
The spell worked, and they found her location.  
  
—  
  
Fenris and Anders walked Hawke back to his estate. They had to. Hawke had just sat there on the floor like a puppet whose strings had just been cut after Leandra had died. At first they let him sit there until they realized that he was not going to move at all. Hawke said nothing on the way back but entered the estate on his own.  
  
Anders hesitated, unsure of what to do. Fenris caught his gaze and then gently inclined his head towards the door.  
  
Right then. Anders entered, feeling unfit to be there, but then Bodhan pointed Anders up to Hawke’s bedroom.  
  
Hawke was sitting on the bed staring blankly at a wall. He was the last one left now.  
  
Anders sat down quietly next to him. He tried to talk to him, but Hawke didn’t answer. After a long while, Hawke leaned against Anders.  
  
“Can you stay here tonight?” Hawke asked, voice small. “Not to- I just don’t want to be alone.”  
  
Anders nodded. “I’m here for you,” he said. “Whatever you need.”  
  
—  
  
Anders temporarily closed down the clinic. Hawke needed him more right now. Everyone came by the estate, offering condolences or small things to help. No one brought flowers, at least none of their small circle. A noble family sent some, but Bodahn managed to intercept them before Hawke saw.  
  
“I don’t think it would help,” Bodahn said, and Anders agreed.  
  
Hawke remained mostly silent but followed Anders around, or another if someone else was in the estate. The only time he expressed any strong emotion was when someone offered to clean Leandra’s room. So Leandra’s room remained untouched.  
  
It was a few weeks before Hawke felt like leaving the estate again. Anders had assumed it was just to walk around, but Hawke shook his head.  
  
“I need to be doing something,” he said, voice hoarse from lack of use. “I don’t care what. Any job.”  
  
—  
  
The deaths of Merrill’s clansmen did not sway her from her path. Fenris berated Merrill for the deaths of her clansmen. Merrill snapped back. Anders agreed with Fenris who then sneered and said something about hypocrisy. The argument quickly devolved from there.  
  
Anders wouldn’t say it was the nastiest conversation they had. He could definitely recall worse, but they all jumped when Hawke suddenly cried out.  
  
“Maker please,” Hawke suddenly begged. “I just- can we not? Not today? Just pretend we all get along, even if it’s just for a little bit?”  
  
Hawke shook, breath coming in raggedly, sounding like gravel, and covered his eyes with his hands.  
  
Anders fell silent. They all did, feeling like complete asses, and none of them said anything when Hawke began to cry.  
  
—  
  
A week after that, and Hawke said that Anders should open up his clinic again. He appreciated the attention, but he was feeling bad for keeping Anders away, and that people needed to be saved. It wasn’t about the clinic at all, but Anders agreed. And people did need healing. It was a constant in life as sure as death.  
  
“Is he doing better, then?” Sebastian asked. Sebastian, who had come all the way down to his clinic in that shiny white armor to ask about Hawke. Not when Anders was up in Hightown, no. Sebastian waited until Anders was back in his clinic all the way over in Darktown to ask, and yet Anders wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised.  
  
Anders shrugged. “I think so? He’s acting more functional, but that doesn’t always mean anything. Do you mind holding down this leg here?”  
  
“Oh, not at all,” Sebastian said, kneeling down next to his patient. “I appreciate you looking out for him,” Sebastian said.  
  
“He would do and has done the same for all of us,” Anders said. “He deserves better than this.”  
  
“He does indeed, but it is still no small thing you do.”  
  
Anders ended up roping Sebastian into help around the clinic because there had developed a backlog while he was away. Sebastian said he didn’t mind and was happy to do good work. Anders watched Sebastian deal with blood and vomit and grubby patients, and yet somehow his armor remained spotless shiny white. The bastard.  
  
—  
  
Varric had managed to browbeat Anders into using his tab to eat better food on a regular basis. It was a distance to walk, but he did also get direct sunlight.  
  
The next time Anders went, he found Isabela waiting for him.  
  
“Everything okay?” he asked.  
  
Isabela sighed. “Why are you always asking that? You always seem to assume everyone wants something.”  
  
Anders blinked. Oh. Right. “I spend all of my time in a clinic,” he said. “It’s a default state.”  
  
“Hey that makes sense,” she said brightly. “Anyway, wanted to talk to you. Hawke’s too depressed to do his thing, so for some reason I’ve decided to take over. We are all going to have a nice truce and not pick fights for a while.”  
  
“Pick fights?” Anders asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Not just you,” Isabela said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone.”  
  
“I’m not picking fights,” Anders said. “Other people always start it.”  
  
“That’s bullshit,” Isabela said. “True for most people, but you do pick fights with Fenris, and you definitely do with Merrill. So in the interest of Hawke’s sanity, just lay off for a while.”  
  
“We’ll just ignore the demons then,” he said.  
  
“Hey, people call you a demon too, _Justice_ ,” she said, and they blinked. “But you say you aren’t. Merrill hasn’t hurt anyone and is far kinder to you than you deserve.”  
  
Justice paused for a moment. “Of course you would be partial to her. You wish to romance her,” he said softly.  
  
Isabela sat up straight. “What? How- Look, it wouldn’t work out. And that’s not even what we were talking about. Where you did even get that from?”  
  
“Why not? She returns your affections and would be amiable to a relationship,” Justice said.  
  
“Exactly. And she shouldn’t. She deserves someone good, alright?” Isabela asked.  
  
“Good enough to demand that others treat her fairly?” Justice asked.  
  
Isabela narrowed her eyes. “So you admit you have been treating her unfairly then.”  
  
Justice quieted for a moment. “I do not trust her, because she believes she has the upper hand on the demon. No one ever knows what they are doing with a demon,” he said. “I have seen it a thousand times. They are always tricked, and she is proud enough to believe she won’t be.”  
  
“Well, I’ve seen a thousand abominations gone bad at this point,” Isabela said.  
  
Justice went quiet a second time. Isabela possessed a good heart deep down, though it was possible his judgment was biased.  She had once tried to aid Anders once before he had been caught by Templars on successful escape attempt number six. She had offered a place on her ship, not temporary but a permanent position. At times he thought of her as Freedom, for elves and women and men and mages. He knew mortals were complex, but it was as fitting as it could be.  
  
Isabela trusted Merrill as did Hawke, and after recent events, Justice found himself doubting most of his own judgments.  
  
The part of him that was Anders thought that once he believed pets to be a form of slavery, and that wasn’t that just silly in hindsight?  
  
“I- will keep my comments to myself,” Justice said.  
  
Isabela’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I didn’t think that was actually going to work.”  
  
“Why? Because I am an unreasonable being incapable of change?” Justice asked bitterly.  
  
Isabela frowned. “No. It’s just your nature to be stubborn like that.”  
  
“You should also confess your feelings to Merrill,” Justice said with all seriousness. “Romance is a noble pursuit. I believe you would both be happier were you to get together and would be positive influences on each other.”  
  
Isabela laughed, for some reason sounding delighted.  
  
—  
  
Anders and Justice did not make the best impression on everyone from the beginning. Then Bethany died in the Deep Roads, something he knew he could have prevented.  
  
And yet Hawke still ended up flirting with him.  
  
Anders and Justice proved themselves every inch the monster that they had denied, and yet still Hawke flirted with him. Hawke’s mother died at mage hands, and Hawke struggled with despair.  
  
And yet. Here Hawke was in the clinic.  
  
‘Well those kittens and virgins will just have to find a nice strong mage to protect them.’  
  
‘The refugees could not ask for a more handsome man to heal their festering wounds.’  
  
‘Have you ever noticed that under direct sunlight your hair glows?’  
  
‘…real nice night for an evening?’  
  
“You can’t keep doing this,” Anders said. “One of these days I might start taking you seriously.” Justice hadn’t been expressing discomfort at the flirting anymore, but he didn’t need to. Anders was hesitant enough for the both of them.  
  
“Just out of curiosity, how long will that be? I’m asking for a friend,” Hawke said playfully.  
  
As it turned out, it was not much longer at all.  
  
—  
  
So here Anders was at Hawke’s estate, sick with nerves. He was warm and kind and supported their cause, even when they themselves could no longer see it.  
  
“Justice doesn’t approve of you. He believes you are a distraction,” Anders said, because technically it wasn’t a lie. “It’s one of the few things he and I disagree on.”  
  
“Is- I’m glad you’re here,” Hawke said, looking nervous and hopeful all at once.  
  
The Circle yawned behind him with sharp eyes and judgment. This is what didn’t happen. Love was emotional, made people irrational, and the Chantry proclaimed that it made mages more prone to possession (what didn’t by their standards). It was a game or it wasn’t at all, and the time that Anders almost forgot that, Karl-  
  
Romance didn’t happen for someone like them. Him. Anders hesitated, but there was no dissent in his mind.  
  
“It would kill me to lose you,” he confessed.  
  
“I can’t promise that won’t happen,” Hawke said sadly, stepping in front of him. “But not by any lack of trying on my part.”  
  
“No mage I know ever dared to fall in love,” Anders said, cupping Hawke’s cheek.  
  
Hawke paused, raising a hand to Anders’ own, and it was then that Anders realized his hand was smoking a faint blue.  
  
Anders snatched his hand back. No. No no no. His muscles tensed, mind racing, but Hawke held up his hands.  
  
“It’s okay!” Hawke said. “It’s alright.” Hawke paused for a moment. “Wait. When you said Justice thought I was a distraction-”  
  
He said nothing, heart racing.  
  
Hawke’s face softened. “Hey. I love you,” he said. “I know you have some insecurities, both of you do.” He paused, watching Anders or maybe Justice intently, before continuing. “But I never met just Anders. I met Anders-and-Justice. And sometimes you say you are a singular, and sometimes you say you are a plural, and I will admit it’s really confusing for me, but. That’s the person, or persons, that I… fell in love with.”  
  
Blue energy crackled briefly across his skin.  
  
Hawke laughed and then promptly choked a little. “Honestly, I just assumed that you- that Justice wouldn’t be interested?”  
  
“What if I was?” he asked quietly.  
  
Hawke slowly reached out and held their hands. “I’m sorry, all I can think of is bad threesome jokes,” Hawke said. “That probably isn’t helpful.”  
  
They chuckled despite themselves and clutched his hands. Fear was dissolving into something else, something tenuous and frail. Something almost hopeful.  
  
“You are both so much better than you think are,” Hawke said. “I can’t put into words how much I admire you, both of you, and all that you have done and continue to do despite all the shit the world’s thrown against you.” He pulled them close, rested his forehead against theirs. “I can’t say I’m not confused, but I am more than willing to give this a shot.”  
  
They kissed him. Slowly, savoring every second, afraid to open their eyes and see nothing but the Fade. And yet when they finally pulled away, it was still the estate with Hawke.  
  
—  
  
He remembered how this went, and yet it was all so breathtakingly new.  
  
—  
  
Anders had always been a cuddler, still craved physical contact even after. Absolutely no one complained.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind if you moved in,” Hawke said hopefully. “And I do have that giant empty cellar that I still can’t figure out what to do with. It would probably be better than most of the places in Darktown for a clinic.”  
  
“The Templars actively look for me,” Anders said. “They would find out fast, and I don’t want to put you in that position.”  
  
Hawke grew quiet.  
  
“You are thinking of another joke, aren’t you?” Anders asked with fond exasperation.  
  
“I spend too much time with Isabela,” Hawke confessed. “But the offer stands if you ever need it for any reason. Really, any reason. I have so much mansion that I don’t know what to do with, and I like the idea of it being put to good use.”  
  
“I’ll consider it,” Anders said.  
  
“And the living here part?” Hawke asked. “I don’t want to pressure you, but it is nicer than Darktown. Even if it was only a few nights a week or something. I know you tend to work late with both of your jobs.”  
  
Hawke paused again, expression twisted. “…because Justice waits for no man.”  
  
Anders buried his face into his pillow.  
  
—  
  
It had been a long, exhausting day at the clinic before he closed for the night. It was Wicked Grace Night. Anders had gotten into the habit of skipping out on them, but then after Leandra-  
  
Anders sighed wearily before grabbing his coat.  
  
It was a long trudge to the Hanged Man, and he was not happy when he arrived to find only one other person. It was of course Fenris, who was looking as annoyed as Anders felt.  
  
Anders considered wasting money on alcohol that wouldn’t even get him drunk.  
  
“Is Hawke even here?” Anders asked finally.  
  
Fenris shook his head. “He was invited to a noble party. I am surprised you did not know.”  
  
“Long day at the clinic,” Anders said tiredly.  
  
Fenris eyed the blood stains reaching up the arms of his coat and said nothing.  
  
They stared at each other for a while before Anders sighed. “Why do I even show up for these if hardly anyone else comes? I’m the busiest.”  
  
Fenris snorted. “Fine. If it is just us, then we will play Diamondback.”  
  
Anders narrowed his eyes. Card games alone with Fenris. He could think of so many other thrilling things to do, but on the other hand, it was a long walk back to his clinic. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Fine. Diamondback.”  
  
Anders lost every round.  
  
Fenris invited him to play again ‘any time’.  
  
—  
  
Anders’ services were rarely used for pregnancies. Midwifes normally had the job handled, but there was a woman who had suffered a terrible pregnancy before that had only ended in a stillbirth, so Anders was on hand. This was the situation when scrambling people came from the surface saying the city was on fire and that Qunari were everywhere, taking or killing people in the streets. The Arishok had finally gone mad.  
  
A number of people from the upper levels had tried to flee to the sewers, but the Qunari were thorough and knew every inch of Kirkwall.  
  
He could try to find Hawke, but in all the chaos, he was doomed to failure, and people were flooding his clinic, injured and burned, some missing limbs, some with nasty gashes or bruising.  
  
All he could do was heal whoever needed the most help and pray that Hawke would solve this mess.  
  
Hours passed by, first with waves upon waves of wounded, and then with frighteningly hardly anyone at all. Nerves consumed him despite the mind-numbing work of healing.  
  
Hawke was capable. Hawke was mortal and could very well die trying to end this.  
  
A young man who was now minus an arm said that the Qunari had initially favored any place where people gathered, and Anders cursed himself all over again. The Hanged Man. Varric and Isabela. The alienage with Merrill. Hightown with Fenris who had always been surprisingly not fond of the Qunari as well as Sebastian in the Chantry. Aveline and Donnic with the guards who would be deployed to deal with this and then likely cut down.  
  
And the sewers with all of the poor and downtrodden. Fight or heal. Blue crackled visibly. If they got close, it would be fight, and he would win because he was not a mortal thing any longer.  
  
When footsteps pounded in the distance, Anders tensed, but it was not Qunari.  
  
—  
  
Later in the Amell estate, Hawke laid in his bed, finally stable from getting stabbed through the fucking chest. Everyone was there. Everyone survived, and everyone had needed some form of healing. After Hawke though, Anders had merely grabbed the antiseptic and the bandages for the rest and focused on not vomiting on his patients from overtaxing his magic.  
  
If it hadn’t been for Merrill…  
  
Anders wearily looked over at her. Merrill’s skin was ashen. She had been at Hawke’s side and fought her way through Qunari, and was then the sole reason Hawke still breathed, using blood magic to keep Hawke from bleeding out while Sebastian (the fastest among them) fetched Anders from the clinic to lead him back to the Viscount’s Keep.  
  
Isabela was in the corner, not talking to anyone. She had returned the Tome of Koslun to the remaining Qunari who had honored the duel and left without any more bloodshed. She had left and then returned to fix her wrong. People still died, and he doubted she was taking that well despite all of her talk for only looking out for herself. She was a better person than she gave herself credit for.  
  
“I guess I’m confined to bed rest for a while,” Hawke rasped.  
  
Anders looked up at Hawke and gave his best glare.  
  
“Can I be confined to bed rest too?” Varric asked tiredly. He had taken a spear through the shoulder. “It sounds lovely.”  
  
Sebastian winced. “About that…”  
  
Varric looked up. “What?”  
  
Sebastian hesitated.  
  
“What?” Varric asked again, alarm in his face.  
  
“The Hanged Man took fire damage,” Anders said, now resting his head in his hands to keep the room from sharply jerking around.  
  
“I am sorry, Varric,” Sebastian said. “Corff said it would be a few months until they get it all repaired.”  
  
Varric groaned. “I suppose it was too much to hope for.”  
  
“You can stay here,” Hawke said. “I’ve got spare rooms. Spare rooms for everyone. Everyone can just live here from now on.”  
  
“I’m not leaving the mansion,” Fenris said.  
  
“It’s rotting,” Hawke said. “Please leave it.”  
  
“It needs to rot more.”  
  
It made a weird kind of sense to Anders, but that might just be because he was very tired. A great deal of patients had died. There were probably a few dying right now. He could use the basement access, go back to the clinic. He was all out of magic, but he could use traditional methods.  
  
The room spun again viciously. He needed to sleep. He couldn’t even ask Merrill to take over because she needed to heal up as well. From saving Hawke’s life. Her and Sebastian. This was taking him a bit.  
  
“Do you mind if I just sleep here tonight Hawke?” Merrill asked. “I’m just so tired. I don’t want to walk all the way back to the alienage.”  
  
“I just said you could Merrill,” Hawke said gently.  
  
“Oh. Sorry.” She blinked a few times.  
  
Bodahn appeared by the door. “I’ve prepared guest rooms for anyone who wants to stay,” he said. “And Orana has some warm stew over the fire for when people get hungry.”  
  
Fenris, who had been starting to sit up, halted. “Is it a Tevinter dish?” he asked.  
  
“I do believe so.”  
  
Fenris stared blankly for a moment before sitting back down.  
  
“See. Everyone stays here for the night. It’ll be a great sleepover,” Hawke said.  
  
Aveline sighed. “I’ll go get Donnic.”  
  
—  
  
Isabela disappeared one day. Guilt probably. Merrill stopped talking as much and spent more time on that damned mirror. Isabela came back, stayed for a while, and then left again just as suddenly.  
  
A year later, she came back once more and this time didn’t leave. Several months later, Anders finally saw them holding hands, and he knew part of the grumbled frustration he felt was from Justice. But then who was he to judge? They got together in half the time as the two of them and Hawke.  
  
Merrill started to talk more again, but she still spent far too long in front of that mirror, her frame growing thinner and thinner as she searched for an impossible answer.  
  
Anders knew the feeling. No matter what words he came up with, the Grand Cleric refused to listen over and over again.  
  
Anders had been staring at his current set of drafts for almost an hour before Hawke slowly stepped into view.  
  
“Everything okay?” Hawke asked.  
  
Anders sighed. “I just can’t get the words right,” he said.  
  
Hawke nodded. “Well, if you are having problems writing, then how about you think about it while eating dinner? Sometimes doing something different can help with these sorts of things.”  
  
“No. No, I don’t want to move from this spot until I finish this.”  
  
“I could bring the food up to you?”  
  
Anders looked up at Hawke, eyes narrow. “You are just trying to get me to eat.”  
  
“Well, yes, as it’s way into the night, and you didn’t get anything to eat. All day.”  
  
He didn’t want to eat. He was a stream of buzzing energy that could survive off of the Fade alone if he could only figure out how to reconnect like he used to. Eating took work and was annoying and had to be remembered, and that was food that could go to someone else regardless. Energy danced around in his head, chasing thought after thought, refusing to slow down or give him a moment’s pause.  
  
Anders sighed. “I’ll eat later, okay?”  
  
Hawke gave him a concerned look. “Will you?” he asked. “Will you honestly eat later?”  
  
Anders groaned. “Probably not.”  
  
“I’m not sure I get the problem?” Hawke asked. “Is this a Justice thing? Some kind of energy natural state instead of the other way around?”  
  
Anders frowned. “Other way around? What other way around?”  
  
“You know, when you get tired a lot?” Hawke said. “You don’t do much and get depressed.”  
  
Anders snorted. “There isn’t two ways about it. That’s just- I’m fine right now, okay? This isn’t some Justice thing. I’m naturally like this too, and this is just one of the few times I feel like I can actually get things accomplished.”  
  
Hawke just stared at him for a moment before making dramatic hand gestures to the empty dinner plate.  
  
“So I forget to eat sometimes! Maybe I should just figure out how Justice sustained Kristoff so I don’t have to have this problem.”  
  
“…eating is a problem?”  
  
Anders rolled his eyes. “Eating. Sleeping. So much time is spent sleeping. I could accomplish so much if I didn’t have to sleep. Honestly, how much of everyone’s life is spent asleep? It’s insane.”  
  
It would be efficient use of his time though. It would certainly take a while to figure out, but then it would more than pay for itself and then he would finally be done with sleeping once and for all. Anders knew deep down in his bones that if he simply had more time to work on his plans he could have escaped the Circle much earlier.  
  
Hawke paused for a moment. “Think about it like rejuvenating in the Fade.”  
  
“I don’t want to rejuvenate in the Fade. I want to get stuff done.”  
  
Hawke looked down at the table again. “How many drafts do you have?”  
  
Anders waved a hand. “There are multiple sets of drafts, Hawke. I still can’t decide how to best convince people. Logic? Emotion? Religion? People’s inherent sense of greed? So I have drafts for each one and combined versions and- well, draft seven which is terrible but I can’t get rid of it yet as there is one line that Justice came up with which was really clever but I haven’t found a good place to put it in one of the others yet. Honestly I’ve tried every method with that old biddy but none of them have worked.”  
  
Hawke still had a considering look about him. “So when you say this is natural, you got this way before Justice?”  
  
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Anders said feeling very annoyed with all of this.  
  
“I don’t want to talk over you,” Hawke said in a way that hinted that he was about to in fact talk over Anders, “but we’ve all noticed by now that occasionally you just do this. Neglect yourself while throwing yourself into work without much moderation.”  
  
“I still don’t know what you are talking about,” Anders said. “I’m getting stuff done.”  
  
“I’m not arguing that,” Hawke said. “It’s really impressive. Freakishly so,” he continued, eying all of the drafts. “But you don’t seem to complain as much about having to eat food when you aren’t as- energetic.”  
  
Anders sighed. “I just want to work on this, okay?” he asked.  
  
Hawke nodded.“Alright. You can think about your writing when you are eating some food.”  
  
Anders made a disgusted noise worthy of Fenris.  
  
—  
  
Nathaniel was in the Deep Roads nearby, and it was halfway there that Anders realized he was excited to go to the Deep Roads. That he had literally asked Hawke if they could go to the Deep Roads, fully willing to go to the fucking Deep Roads, and that he was even upon realizing this still excited to go to the Deep Roads.  
  
Andraste’s ass but he had missed Nathaniel.  
  
And upon seeing Nathaniel’s face, Anders knew it was mutual.  
  
“Anders!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “You- you’re- how have you been?”  
  
“We know,” Fenris said from behind him.  
  
“We are both doing fine,” they said. Nathaniel had been such a good friend to both of them but more so for Justice. A friend who treated him like a person, said he was a person and talked to him and asked him questions and wanted to spend time with him.  
  
Justice missed Nathaniel so much.  
  
The darkspawn were almost a side note. They wiped through them easily while Nathaniel talked to both of them, asked how they were doing, updated them on events back at the Keep.  
  
Sebastian seemed surprisingly happy in the background with the killing of darkspawn. He would probably make a decent Warden. It would be a better life for him than in the Chantry, and while Sebastian continued to waffle back and forth on whether or not he should do something about Starkhaven, he never seemed excited about the idea, not as much as killing darkspawn.  
  
Warden-Commander Brosca would probably recruit him on the spot. Not conscript, no, Brosca always managed to talk people into becoming Wardens as if it was their idea.  
  
“Do you know what happened to the old Warden-Commander?” they asked Nathaniel.  
  
“He managed to track down Zevran in time,” Nathaniel said. “They then spent some time in Antiva clearing up the Crows before returning back to the Keep. Zevran’s a full Warden now,” Nathaniel said.  
  
In the background, Hawke was making more and more confused faces.  
  
“Brosca risked that?”  
  
Nathaniel coughed. “Well, Zevran insisted, and Velanna’s been making good ground in a better Joining process. She, ah, she took up the offer that you declined. Apparently it aids with the process.”  
  
Anders stared flatly at Nathaniel. “Brosca was able to teach her?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“He’s not even- he’s not even a mage!”  
  
“He taught you some things,” Nathaniel said evasively.  
  
Hawke seemed to be mouthing ‘who is Velanna?’  
  
“Is her sister doing okay?”  
  
“Surprisingly yes,” Nathaniel said. “It’s been working out all things considered.”  
  
But Nathaniel had to leave and report back.  
  
“I’ll try to stop back by soon,” Nathaniel said. “I would have earlier, but none of us knew where you were. The latest guess was the Anderfels.”  
  
“Not Rivain?”  
  
“Brosca checked Rivain,” Nathaniel said.  
  
“What. All of it?” Hawke asked from the background.  
  
“I believe it,” Anders said.  
  
Nathaniel clasped their shoulder. “I am just glad to see you doing well.”  
  
—  
  
He loved Hawke. They both did so much. And they loved that Hawke made no secret of it, but that did not mean that either of them were used to it.  
  
It was full daylight in a crowded area in front of their friends. Hawke had smiled at him before leaning forward and kissing him lightly on the lips. “A kiss for Anders,” he said and then promptly kissed him again. “And a kiss for Justice!”  
  
His skin cracked bright blue as he blushed to his ears.  
  
Isabela snorted. “I don’t know whether to be charmed or nauseated,” she said.  
  
—  
  
The Gallows had gotten so much worse, and not just in deaths or Tranquility. Merrill had finally said that she would be willing to shuttle mages to her clan which would then send them off to other clans. And after several years, Anders finally realized this was personal for Merrill who was herself a mage, willing to sacrifice for elven kind despite the stupid way she went about it. And the clans would take on other elven mages but not her.  
  
He still doesn’t trust her to know what she is doing. He can’t because it’s demons, but nor did he say anything.  
  
The Gallows loomed on more than just the mages though. Everyone noticed it, even if Fenris said otherwise. (He still hadn’t turned anyone in, not him or Sebastian. Fenris and Anders would yell at each other and then later would play cards, and no longer on just Wicked Grace Night.)  
  
The Underground had collapsed. The safe houses they had were raided, and the people hiding apostates were killed. Aveline said it was the law. Justice once dimly remembered believing in the law, that it protected innocents and punished the guilty. Now he laughed bitterly at his past foolishness.  
  
The Grand Cleric did not intervene and continued to not intervene, not at the beginning, not with Alrik’s abuses, not with the Qunari, not now, sat there in sloth and called it peace.  
  
And then Anders learned that Meredith had called for Annulment and was merely waiting for a chance. The Divine was considering sending an Exalted March upon them all. No one did anything.  
  
—  
  
Ash and rubble rained down upon the vicinity. They were very careful, set up runes that would expel the debris beyond the city, minimize the damage to everyone else.  
  
He loved Hawke. They both loved and trusted Hawke so much, and they couldn’t bear the thought of turning around and finally seeing the accusation. Hawke should. There would be innocent deaths, as few as possible. And then the Templars would descend upon Kirkwall, and all of the rage and fear and desperation would inevitably result in demons.  
  
But at the same time, it was the Templar’s fault for abuse and killing what few good Templars there had been left. It was Elthina’s fault for letting the situation fester, and it was Meredith’s for her gross acts of abuse, for calling for an Annulment, for readying for the entire Circle to be wiped clean, enchanters and apprentices both, what ones there were left.  
  
There was shouting in the background, but that was fine. He knew how this would end. If Hawke said it- if Hawke deemed their death a just act then-  
  
Sebastian was furious, and Hawke was quiet. “Are you going to say anything?” Sebastian demanded.  
  
Despite himself, Anders had to look.  
  
Hawke was staring ahead at the shattered ruins. “Frankly, I don’t see a problem,” he said.  
  
“What?” Sebastian asked, disbelief written plainly across his face. There are similar looks of confusion behind Hawke. “But you-”  
  
Hawke shrugged.  
  
“This is a disaster!”  
  
Hawke nodded. “It would have been nice if it hadn’t had to come to this,” he said sadly.  
  
Meredith left in a pique of insanity, leaving them alive to fight them at the Gallows.  
  
They expected questions, condemnations, accusations.  
  
Hawke merely stood there for a moment before shrugging. “Well, let’s go fight the Templars,” he said.  
  
“That’s it? That’s your response?” Fenris asked angrily.  
  
Sebastian left. Fenris didn’t.  
  
They had spent months justifying this, thinking of every other possible solution before arriving at this dreadful conclusion, and Hawke was just taking this at face value.  
  
Why weren’t they dead yet?  
  
Hawke caught his gaze. “We can talk later,” he said gently. “I’m sure you want to, but we don’t have a lot of time right now.”  
  
“Do we even have any other plans than ‘attack Templars’?” Varric asked.  
  
“Well,” Isabela said. “The next step would be escape, and I just so happen to have a brand new ship.”  
  
—  
  
They watched Kirkwall slowly shrink in the distance, lit by fire. So many mages died, but not all of them. A number lingered on the decks, getting the first fresh air they had in years.  
  
Isabela sidled up next to them. “I meant it before, you know,” she said. “Back in Denerim? I’m not sure if you remember.”  
  
“You offered me a place on your crew,” Anders said fondly. “That there was always good use for a healer with a nice electricity trick.”  
  
Isabela laughed. “I think somebody would get jealous if I made good on that second part. Alright, two somebodies. Wait, three?” She paused before shaking her head. “The point is, the offer still stands. For you and Hawke and your side-along passenger. If you need a safe place, I’ve got a ship, and I think we all just learned a very important lesson about Templar swimming abilities.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to Hawke, but-”  
  
Isabela looked behind him. “Well that’s going to be easy.”  
  
Anders turned to see Hawke standing awkwardly who gave a small wave.  
  
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Isabela said before walking off.  
  
Hawke leaned against the railing. “So I guess they are going to revoke my Champion status,” he said lightly. “There’s got to be a precedent for this.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said.  
  
Hawke laughed with just a touch of hysteria in his voice. “I think in the grand scheme of things, that’s not that big of a deal. I should probably be more concerned with what just happened. I should care, right?” Hawke paused for a moment. “But I don’t think there was a happy ending possible for any of this. Not with Elthina or Meredith or the fucking Divine or a possible Exalted March or an Annulment coming. Something was going to happen no matter what. This was just the best case scenario.”  
  
Anders looked away.  
  
“I mean it,” Hawke said. “Exalted March? Everyone in Kirkwall dies. Annulment? All the mages die, and then probably more some. I am just so sorry that you had to do this. And I’m sorry that you honestly thought I would kill you over this.”  
  
His eyes burned, but then Hawke was holding him.  
  
“I’d like to say it was over, but while I don’t blame you, the Chantry might be upset,” he said, and despite everything, Anders laughed.  
  
“They’ll hunt me down,” Anders said. “They have to, and they will not show me nor anyone with me any scrap of mercy.”  
  
Hawke shrugged. “They would have to catch you first, and this is one hell of a ship.”  
  
“I’d rather be on the run with you than safe with anyone else,” Anders said.  
  
Hawke smiled. “Frankly, I don’t see why we can’t have both.”


End file.
